


Drawing A Line

by madwomanwithabox



Series: It's A Process [3]
Category: Incredible Hulk (2008), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Fluff, Neurotic Geniuses, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwomanwithabox/pseuds/madwomanwithabox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce gets too comfortable with his situation, and after a nasty surprise comes to understand that the best way to contain any monster is by drawing a line in the sand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawing A Line

**Author's Note:**

> ...okay, I'm less sure about this one. But, as with all things pertaining to this series? Fuck it. I had feels, and I wrote them.
> 
> Unbeta'd, unseen by human eyes, blame me if it sucks. I shouldn't be allowed to write on no sleep. Which I did. >.>
> 
> I am still not sorry and I regret nothing. Well, I regret one thing: this is less science-y. I like a healthy dose of technospeak in my Science Bros, ya know? I'll fix that with the next installment. XD

“This is complete horseshit.”

“Mr. Stark, I can assure you--”

“Yes, General, I’m sure you can, because this is _horseshit._ ”

Bruce knew he was safe. He knew, intellectually, that the house in Malibu was safe. He and Tony had been there for nearly a month, working on the plasmic converter, and he was creeping closer and closer every day towards a full year since he’d had to run. He was enjoying the security, the comfort...the idle luxury of having a place he might actually be able to call home. The Malibu place was definitely it, the sedate little nest Tony had crafted for himself above a bright, loud, busy creative playground.

It didn’t make him any less terrified, staring at the massive split-screen image of General Ross and Nick Fury hovering between Bruce and the one man that stood, protecting him against threats like this one.

The first time Tony brought Bruce to the house, he’d assumed Tony didn’t use it a lot, with its hotel-impersonal neutral color scheme and muted track lighting, its showy displays of simple elegance with the grand piano, the occasional plant, the odd sculpture or tasteful pieces of modern art, framed and hung on the walls with detached precision. It was big, perfectly maintained by JARVIS and Pepper, among others...it was nice, if a little boring.

Then Tony took him downstairs to his workshop, and Bruce understood.

He saw the stark lighting, the mess, the splashes of brilliant color in hot rods and holographic projection system for the computer, the gleaming chrome and lingering scars of the particle accelerator Tony had built (one he vowed to replace for Bruce’s benefit, a compliment to the lab at Stark Tower), and realized that Tony had drawn a very necessary line in the house to keep from killing himself. Upstairs was bland, sedate, restful...when he wasn’t throwing parties, at any rate. Downstairs was alive, bright, and thriving with sound and stimulation. It forced him to adhere to a cycle, to resign himself to things like sleep and real food instead of all night drafting sessions and easy carry protein shakes. The workshop was where Tony Stark let himself go, revved the engines and took off like a bullet from a gun, the rest of the house was devoted to making sure that, when he was finally forced out of the lab, he didn’t fall over dead of exhaustion, mentally and physically.

The house was a living example of the way Tony’s brain worked, and for that alone, Bruce was a little in love with it.

He felt so comfortable, so at ease as he buzzed himself into the workshop that morning with a coffee for Tony and an herbal tea for himself in each hand that he didn’t stop to wonder why he couldn’t feel the concussive power of AC/DC or The Clash or Black Sabbath reaching his core through the soundproofed door that Tony still managed to breach with pure volume. He had gotten so lax, he nearly called out to Tony before Tony’s voice rang out with those sharp words, and that familiar gruff tone tinted his vision with warning green.

Looking up from his own cup to see the images on the holographic interface of the video conference that was going on, a backwards view of Ross and Fury seeming to stare almost at him as it floated above Tony’s projection table, pushed him to the brink before he could even call up a breathing exercise that might, _might_ calm his heart rate in time.

Tony caught his eye and spoke before Bruce could wrap his head far enough around the situation to allow for a transformation.

“Excuse me a moment, gentlemen...Pepper! Stay there, gorgeous, I’ll come to you...JARVIS, mute and screen.”

A computerized blip signaled that the sound was off, and the projection instantly blurred, going soft and gray and vaguely out of focus as the images froze in place. Tony was around the table in an instant, taking both cups from Bruce and setting them aside before laying his hands on his shoulders. The touch startled Bruce a little, but what startled him more was the rush of warmth that flooded him, spreading from Tony’s hands like a ripple in a still pond, suffusing him with that sense of safety and calm again.

“Eyes on me, Big Guy, okay?”

Bruce blinked, meeting Tony’s gaze instead of staring over his shoulder at the grayed out image behind him. Slowly, the green haze began to dissipate as Tony’s features filled his vision. Tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding eased as he looked into Tony’s eyes, fever bright and...vicious. He looked like a caged dog ready to strike at any moment, a wounded animal that was being threatened, but Bruce felt no fear. He felt...protected.

He wasn’t aware until that moment` that his heart was racing. That he was shaking, trembling as adrenaline flooded his body, and while he had a handle on the Other Guy, he couldn’t control the cues of biology...

“You keep your eyes on me, you stay here, and you say nothing, do you hear me?” Tony’s voice was low and urgent, demanding his attention. “You stay right here, and you don’t move a fucking muscle. Just calm down...and don’t move. I got this.”

“Tony...I can’t...” He trailed off, his heart picking up speed again. He had to shut his eyes and suck in a deep breath, looking for a steady rhythm...yep, he was back to the deep breathing. Christ, this was bad, this was...massive backsliding...

“I swear, Banner, if you move, I’ll kill you myself, I don’t care if you can’t die. I’m not letting them have you.”

“You’re not gonna have much choice if the Other Guy gets out in front of General Ross, Tony.”

There was instantly a hand at his chin, strong and touched with that viciousness as it grabbed him with real violence. It forced Bruce’s eyes open...and what he saw there was actually a little frightening.

“I could give a shit if you hulk out in here.” He spat, soft and venomous and _cold_ , so cold it hurt. “I’m worried about you _running._ ”

Bruce blinked. “What?...”

Tony had a look he got when something was more than he could bear, and he didn’t want anyone to know it. It was a way of meeting your eyes only not, gazing into the middle distance right through your head so you felt pierced by every single emotion he was fighting to hide. He got that look right then, and Bruce was flayed open by the wild _thing_ that was clawing its way out of Tony right then, something that was rife with panic and pain...something that he knew, in his gut, was for Bruce and Bruce alone.

“I don’t care if you hulk out.” He echoed quietly. “Mi casa es su casa, break all the shit you want. But they can’t have you, got it? They _can’t fucking have you_ , so just...don’t move. The camera pickup can’t see you on this side of the table, so stay the hell put. Just...I got this. If you stay put, I got this.”

Bruce’s head was spinning, and that was a bad thing. General Ross had found him, Tony’s hands were on his shoulders, his ragged breath filling Bruce’s lungs every time Bruce drew in air, and even though Malibu wasn’t safe anymore, _Tony_ was safe, ready to fight and kill and die and _worse_ to keep him.

Seeming to sense that Bruce was equalizing, if nothing else, he shifted his grip and squeezed the back of Bruce’s neck. He was vaguely aware of warm pressure, forehead touching forehead, and he didn’t mind it. Tony just stayed there for a moment, and Bruce let him as he collected himself on the other side of the camera pickup, out of the light and in the quiet, simple stillness on the other side of the line.

When Tony finally released him, Bruce found himself thinking about that broken shard of the Hulk’s memory he tried to avoid: a high five in the heat of battle, a primal surge of belonging and wildly possessive heat that was strangely intimate.

He thought about it and watched as Tony crossed the line and touched the projection, bringing it back to life.

“Now where were we?”

“We were telling General Ross that we respect his position--”

“No, _you_ were telling him that we respect his position, or rather, that you do. I was telling him that this is horseshit, and I’m not putting up with it.” Tony shot back readily with a smile, that wild animal inside of him morphing into a sleek and ready hunter, a dark wolf with its teeth peeled back from its lips in silent threat. “The United States government has absolutely no grounds to force me to wipe my ass if I don’t want to, and I don’t appreciate being called at home at _six fucking AM_ to be harassed by this four-star putz.”

“Mr. Stark,” Ross snarled, “Dr. Banner is wanted for crimes against the United States government. He’s a threat to the country, a threat to public safety...you’re aiding and abetting a walking biological weapon! I could--”

“You couldn’t do anything, I used to _make_ weapons, I know from weapons.” Tony snapped. “The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, boys, that’s what this boils down to. We’re freelancing. SHIELD may be our new best friend, but the government doesn’t own us, and if I get really pissed off? My consulting days are over. What’s more, if you push this? If you try to _make_ me turn him over...which I won’t do, by the way...the Avengers go bye-bye. You’ll never see us again, not when it counts.”

“You know you’re not serious.”

“You wanna try me?!” Tony’s tone was sharper, and Bruce could see something in him unraveling again, something he still didn’t quite understand. “I wasn’t _rescued_ in Afghanistan, Fury, I escaped. I ran, I know what it’s like to _run_ like Bruce ran. Ross here drove him to it, and I refuse to be a party to it. So don’t tell me I’m not serious. I think I speak for the whole group when I say if we have to choose between the rest of the world and each other? We will only choose the world so long as we feel like it’s worth our time. Otherwise, we’ll raise a toast and watch it burn. Call my bluff. I’m _just_ in the mood to make a scene.”

With a swipe of his hand, Tony switched off the call, sending the holographic image sliding back into the surface of the projection table. Without the video call standing between them any longer, Bruce could see just how raw Tony looked. The calculated hunter was gone and the wild animal was creeping in again. Irrationally, he wanted to reach out, to make that hollow look go away, smooth over that open wound no doctor’s hands could heal.

“You all right?” Tony suddenly asked, pacing back and forth restlessly as he rubbed a hand over his mouth, staring at Bruce intently.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m...why?”

“Because your eyes are green.”

Bruce’s pulse quickened...and with a shock, he realized it was racing again. He felt feverish, shaky, and his heart was racing a mile a minute. He could still think, still feel...but no, there it was, that low roar in the back of his consciousness, quiet and even and... _ready_.

Ready to fight for what was his.

“I...I’ll be fine. I think...I think I’m gonna meditate in the sun room for a while.” He murmured.

Tony nodded, still pacing...the hungry wolf, wounded, starving, afraid.

“Cool. I’m just gonna...be here. Maybe mess with the suit.”

“Tony...”

“Or the converter? I’ve been running some formulas--”

“Tony.”

“--I think we can fix some of the efficiency issues if we just--”

Bruce circled the table, laying a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony met his gaze, and Bruce swore he could see pinpoints of emerald light in the reflection of himself in Tony’s wide, dark eyes.

“Stop. Just...come upstairs with me and stop.”

Tony’s entire expression twitched, lurching with some emotion Bruce couldn’t put his finger on...but after a moment he nodded mutely, letting Bruce lead him back across that line in the sand.


End file.
